All Is Not What It Seems
by You'llNeverKnow1212
Summary: When Harry gets invited to go to Hogwarts, he doesn't expect that the school will have taken a dark turn in the past few years. He didn't expect that people would have suspicions of the influence of a dark wizard. But what he expects least of all... is what he finds.
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter was more than a little nervous as he sat in his compartment waiting to arrive at Hogwarts. But at least he had been able to make friends with Ron Weasley, an incredible stroke of luck for him, because being hidden away from everyone but Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley hadn't done much to improve his social skills. Harry's aforementioned new friend was currently telling Harry everything he knew about Hogwarts, which Harry thought wasn't much for someone who had been born and raised in a wizarding family.

"-four different houses: Gryffindor for the brave, Ravenclaw for the wise, and Hufflepuff for the loyal. Oh, and _Slytherin, _for whoever's too dumb to get into the first three houses," Ron said. "I hope I get to be in Gryffindor. All my brothers got in."

"If so many people in your family went to Hogwarts, then shouldn't you know more about the school? Like what they do there?" asked Harry.

Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by a blond-haired boy bursting in their compartment followed by two fat guys twice his size.

"Ah, Harry Potter," he drawled. Then noticing Ron he said, "Hanging out with the wrong type already-"

Harry was annoyed by this kid - _Malfoy, _he remembered - interrupting him and Ron, so he decided to take the direct approach.

"Get lost, Malfoy. Can't you see I'm busy."

Malfoy's face reddened, but Harry just turned his back on him. For a second, he seemed to be considering telling the two guys behind him to attack, but then thought the better of it.

"You'll regret this, _Potter," _he said. And then they finally exited the compartment, slamming the door behind them. Harry told Ron, who had just been looking back and forth between Harry and Malfoy, mouth open, to continue whatever he was going to say.

"Well, it's kind of weird, actually. They say that Hogwarts has changed a lot recently. Now it's pretty mysterious, even more than it used to be." Ron looked around, as if checking if someone had snuck in the compartment with them. There was nobody in sight. "Some even say that it's been taken over by a dark wizard. But they can't shut the school down because- well it's not like everyone is going in normal and coming out a death eater."

Just then, the compartment door slid open, and a round-faced boy stumbled in, a girl with slightly overgrown front teeth trailing behind him. And that effectively ended the conversation for the rest of the train ride.

Which kind of sucked, because Harry didn't really understand half the things Ron said. Like what was a dark wizard?

* * *

With a screech, the Hogwarts Express stopped moving. Harry was feeling apprehensive, now more than ever, especially after all the weird stuff Ron was talking about. He followed Ron out their compartment and off the train, where they found themselves lost in a crowd of students. Harry stood at the edge of a lake with Ron, trying and failing to find anything that looked remotely like a school.

Then Harry heard a voice calling, "Firs' years!" He looked to his left to see Hagrid beckoning towards standing at the edge of the lake. Happy to see a familiar face, Harry made his way over to him.

"Holdin' up, Harry?" **(It's been a while since I read the books, so I might mess up with the Hagrid speech.)**

Behind Hagrid, in the lake, were a bunch of canoes. The majority of them were already full, with the first years having been herded in, three to a canoe, by Hagrid. By the time they got to the edge of the lake, only one boat was vacant. Harry and Ron clambered in the boat.

"Where's Hogwarts?" asked Harry.

"I dunno. Fred and George said that this was a test; we're going to be attacked by a serpent halfway," said Ron looking nervous. Harry scooted further away from the edge of the boat. Suddenly, the boat dipped alarmingly low in the water. At first, Harry panicked, sure that their canoe was being dragged to the bottom of the lake by a monster. Then he realized that it was just Hagrid who had vaulted into the boat. Which didn't exactly reassure him.

The boats started moving forwards of their own accord. As they glided across the lake, Harry noticed how calm the surface of the lake was. It was pretty hard to believe that a serpent lived in it. He relaxed and turned towards Hagrid.

"So do you work here?" Harry asked in an attempt to start a conversation.

"The groun' keeper," was Hagrid's short answer. He seemed troubled, almost nervous. Which wasn't a very good sign, because why would someone who worked at Hogwarts be nervous about going there?

"Is everything okay?" Harry ventured.

"I'm fine!" said Hagrid, a little to forcefully. Then he turned towards Harry facing him for the first time. "Thing's are changin' Harry. Yeh don' wan' to be caught up in everythin'."

Hagrid seemed so different than when he had arrived to tell the Dursleys that Harry would be going to Hogwarts that Harry didn't try to break the awkward silence again until the canoe bumped gently against the other shore. Harry turned his gaze from the lake to the ancient looking building that stood in front of him. Hogwarts.

It was like an old castle, and what with it's stone towers and huge gate, it looked almost exactly like he would expect a school of magic to be like. But it wasn't welcoming. This school looked like a school of dark magic. But before Harry could think more about the sinister vibes Hogwarts was giving off, he noticed that everyone had already started to move towards it's gate.

At the entrance of the school, a thin-lipped woman with a stern face was waiting for them. Her eyes, however, looked way out of place on her face - they were unfocused, almost like she was hypnotized.

"I'll take them from here, Hagrid," she said. Then she took off down the hallway at a brisk pace, forcing everyone else to hurry to catch up.

At the end of the hallway, the woman stopped and turned to face the group of soon-to-be Hogwarts students.

"I am Minerva McGonagall, one of the professors at this prestigious school. You are about to be Sorted in what will be the second most important ceremony this year. Mind your manners. _He _will be sorting you personally."

And with that, McGonagall marched into a large room, where there were 4 tables where all the students that weren't first years were sitting at. Harry guessed that they were the four houses. The first years filed in and stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. Then McGonagall, who had stopped by a stool that was set at the dead center of the room, pulled out a piece of parchment and stood looking at it. Then she turned at faced all the students.

"The Master shall now grace us with his presence!" she said.

Then, a band started playing in the background, and two house elves were hurriedly rolling a red carpet down the hallway from the door. From the door came a group of house elves who were straining to carry a golden litter. On top of the litter was a golden throne, on top of which were multiple cushions, on top of which... was a dirty old hat.

As one, all of the students dropped to the ground, bowing to the hat. The first years were a little slow on the uptake, but they seemed to reach the conclusion that something bad would happen if they didn't copy the other's actions. Even harry dropped down after an elbow to the ribs from Ron.

By now, the litter had reached the stool at the middle of the room, and the litter was set down by the frightened house elves, who then immediately scampered away and shut the doors behind them. When Harry looked back at the stool, the hat had somehow managed to get off the litter and onto the stool. The students then stood from their bowing position.

McGonagall then said, "The Sorting Ceremony shall now begin!"


	2. Chapter 2

"Abbot, Hannah," came McGonagall's voice as she called up the first in the line of first years. A nervous looking girl stepped up. Harry didn't blame her for being scared, though. This whole sorting ceremony had the air of some satanic cult ritual. Harry could only feel relieved that his last name was near the end of the alphabet. McGonagall instructed Hannah to sit down on the stool (she had picked up the Sorting Hat), and then she plopped the hat down on the girl's head.

It covered her whole head, leaving only about an inch of her chin visible to the onlookers, but Harry felt pretty safe in his assumption that she was terrified. He knew he would be if someone stuck an oversized old hat on _his _head that everyone was calling 'Master'. Most of the first years jumped when they heard a voice.

"Hmm, let's see. Doesn't look too smart. Seems to be dumb, in fact. Dumb and weak. Not fit for the good houses. Not fit for a house at all."

"Hey!" came an indignant cry from somewhere inside the hat. Suddenly, to Harry's horror, about a hundred half-foot wicked-sharp fangs erupted from the brim of the hat, pressing into Hannah's neck. If the hat had gone any further, she would be dead. Needless to say, that shut the girl up pretty quick. Then, just as quick the fangs were gone, leaving Harry to wonder if he had finally gone mad.

"Well then," came the hat's voice. "Does she not have total subservience to her master?" It continued to mock her for a few moments and then spoke louder, this statement obviously directed to everyone.

"I have decided upon this matter - I condemn this wench to the worst of fates here at Hogwarts - HUFFLEPUFF!" roared out the hat, who was obviously enjoying itself.

At these words, everyone except for the first years roared in laughter, including, to Harry's shock, the professors. Even the Hufflepuff table was laughing at itself. McGonagall chuckled in mirth, wiped a tear away from her eye, and then called up the next person as Hannah Abbot shamefully walked over to an old, beaten up table near the back of the room.

And the rest of the students were being sorted in a similar manner. Hermione, the girl with the buck teeth, was sorted into Gryffindor. As the list of names reached the name of the round faced boy Harry had met on the train, Neville Longbottom, Harry thought that his name was coming up too quickly. He nervously swallowed and looked up at McGonagall, expected to hear her call out, "Longbottom, Neville!"

But it never came. Instead she just skipped over Longbottom completely. Harry found that rather odd, but he was more worried that now there was one less person before his name was called. He began to panic, and didn't pay attention to the next few people that were sorted.

He came to his senses when he heard McGonagall's voice.

"Malfoy, Draco!" Harry looked up to see the pale boy he had an argument of sorts with on the train. He walked up to the stool and had the Sorting Hat put on his head.

"Hmm.. let's see. Sneaky, always poking his nose where it shouldn't be. Nobody likes his family... allegiance to the Dark Lord?" Here the hat - which Harry had by now figured out was pretty creepy - seemed to find something humorous, for it began to laugh for a good half minute. Everyone around Harry then began to laugh, even though they didn't know what they were laughing at.

"We'll see that allegiance change soon. _Very _soon indeed." And with those words, the hat sent off an embarrassed Malfoy with the proclamation, "Slytherin!"

And then, all too soon, it was Harry's turn.

"Potter, Harry!" came McGonagall's sharp voice, breaking the silence as another student shuffled off to his assigned table. Harry stood, knees shaking and walked over to the stool, taking as long as possible to reach it. Unfortunately, it wasn't long enough.

He hesitantly took a seat on the stool, which creaked under his weight. Which went to show how messed up it was, because Harry was one of the skinniest wizards of his age. Readjusting his weight so that the stool didn't tip over to one side (one of it's legs was shorter than the others), Harry saw the hat being placed on his head.

For the first time, Harry got a good look at the hat. And he came to the conclusion that it was just that - an old, tattered hat. Well, plus the fact that it had a huge mouth, which Harry was sure had to have had more uses than just talking, and fangs that could sprout from it's mouth at will, and Harry was sure they weren't just for show. But still, it was a _hat. _Why would everyone call an old useless _hat _their master?

And as Harry was thinking these thoughts, the Hat was placed on his head. Or rather, _over _his head. As mentioned before, Harry doubted that the hat would fit perfectly on anyone's head, except maybe Hagrid. Harry felt a probing in his head. Then he remembered, the hat could read his mind. Which kind of sucked because he would have like to have remembered that fact _before _he was thinking all those things about the hat being an old, worthless piece of cloth. As soon as he had thought that, Harry gave himself a slap in the face. He was going to use his hands, but then he remembered the hat was covering his face and probably wouldn't take very kindly to being slapped, so he had to settle for a mental slap. Harry couldn't go insulting the hat, not now.

And indeed, it seemed that the hat had taken offense. It seemed determined to make Harry's sorting as uncomfortable for him as possible.

"So this is the Chosen One?" came it's jeering voice. It was even worse than having to listen to another person's sorting, because the voice rattled through Harry's head as well as echoed through the hall.

"Doesn't seem like much to me. Just another selfish brat. He wasn't even worth the sacrifice of his worthless parents," spat the hat **(unintentional rhyme!)**.

Harry tensed from his place under the hat. And, unfortunately for him, the hat was sitting on his head so he felt Harry's discomfort all too well. Knowing that this was the way to go, the hat continued on that train of thought.

"Yes, I'm sure the murderer of your parents was offended at how weak they were. Why I'm positively sure that he laughed at their pitiful attempts to protect you." By now, Harry could hear the sound of laughter resonating through the hallway even through the thick felt of the hat.

"Even your mother-" started the hat, but Harry couldn't take it anymore.

"Shut up about my mum!" Harry snarled. There was a pregnant pause in which everyone in the hall was shocked into a hushed silence. It was clear that nobody talked to the Sorting Hat that way.

Then angry voices could be heard, and Harry blanched. He didn't know exactly what to expect when he was coming here to Hogwarts, but he knew that the possibility of being lynched by an angry mob that was defending their precious hat hadn't even crossed his mind.

However, before any action could be taken against the boy, that hat spoke up again.

"Touchy, touchy. Sensitive. Weak," said the hat. Harry was just glad that the hat had decided to take action through words, not force. He didn't exactly want to get his head bitten off by a hat. Then what would be written on his tombstone? Death by hat bite? How stupid would that be.

Though now that Harry thought about it, he thought that the hat was a little tighter than before.

"You're so quick to defend your parents. But where were you when they died?" To be fair, Harry _had _been a baby, but he still didn't like being talked to like that. Or the direction where this conversation was going. However, he didn't quite want to die for asphyxiation either, so he forced himself to swallow his anger and keep quiet.

But his rage was fueled when the laughter resumed in the hall. He could even hear McGonagall's now familiar cackle.

"Where was little Harry?" the hat was cooing in a sickeningly sweet voice. Then he said in a booming tone. "He sat and cried while his mother died!" At this the crowd went crazy and started repeating the line like a chant.

He couldn't help it. Harry's eyes swam with tears that threatened to spill out. It was only with a gargantuan effort that he managed to hold them back.

"I didn't cry!" shouted Harry in a shaky voice, which wasn't a very good idea, because though previously only the hat could tell Harry was crying since his face was covered, now the whole crowd knew. And they laughed even harder.

"Still can't hold your tongue?" said the hat. "Then off to Gryffindor with you!"

Harry ripped the hat off his head and threw it behind him. Then he stumbled over to a table decorated with scarlet and gold, seating himself as far away from everyone else as possible. The laughter died down and the Sorting continued, while Harry fumed.

How dare the hat make fun of him like that? Harry vowed to himself that he would get revenge on the old piece of cloth. But his glaring at the hat was probably too obvious because a boy sitting to his left saw.

"Why are you glaring at the master," he snarled, looking downright murderous. Harry scooted a little farther away from him. His anger didn't leave him, though, and Harry found it impossible to watch/listen to the ceremony. The hat was obviously having the time of it's life, he noted. How he hated it, Harry thought. Curse that piece of felt.

The sorting continued and Harry paid no attention until the sorting of his friend Ron.

"Another Weasley! This has got to be the millionth one I've sorted," said the hat. Everyone laughed, including, Harry noted, the other Weasleys. Weird.

"They breed like weasels!" said the hat. It was a horrible joke, but everyone laughed anyways. "I think I'll ruin his life. Slytherin!" said the hat.

If possible, Harry hated the hat even more. He watched as his friend slouched over to the Slytherin table, where Malfoy was waiting for him. Crabbe and Goyle, the two fat guys sitting on either side of him, cracked their knuckles. It really did look as if it the dumb old hat had ruined his friend's life.

Finally, the last student was sorted into their respective house. The long line of first years had dwindled, and now there was only one figure still standing: Neville Longbottom, who had been skipped.

After a moment, the hat said, "Slaves!"

Harry bristled. How dare the hat have the nerve to call him a slave? Harry started fantasizing of the most gruesome ways possible to torture and kill an old hat. He was in the middle of a particularly good idea involving gasoline and a lighter (Hey, never mess with the classics) when he saw that the same boy that had shouted at him was looking a little suspicious. Not wanting to attract attention, he turned his glare away from the center of the room.

"Do you think that I've made a mistake?" boomed the hat. At this, a shocked gasp came from the audience. They all looked horrified.

"Never, Master!" they cried, and as one, they threw themselves down at the hat's feet. Well, it didn't have feet, but whatever. Everyone that is except for Harry. He wasn't going to bow down to a hat. Then someone dead-legged him, causing to fall to the ground in pain in much the same manner as everyone else. Well, he was rolling around and moaning in agony, but nobody cared about that.

"Rise!" came the command. Everyone jumped back up to their seats at their tables.

"I did not forget. I will now take a look at this boy, and use him as an example for you!" Neville, it seemed, had correctly interpreted this to be a bad sign. Everyone cheered at these words. A girl sitting across the table from Harry noticed his silence.

"Why do you not cheer for the Master?" she hissed in an accusatory tone. a couple of heads swiveled in Harry's direction. He gave a couple of half-hearted whoops, which seemed to satisfy them. He felt kind of bad for Neville. He didn't seem like a bad kid, just a little clumsy but not bad.

Reluctantly, the hat instructed McGonagall to place him on Neville's head. But Harry could see right through the hat's seeming reluctance and saw that it was actually excited to make a fool out of another student.

As soon as it was placed on Neville's head, the hat shouted, "Not worthy! Not worthy of being called a wizard! He's not even worthy of being called a squib!" Everyone seemed to be in shock, which then quickly turned into anger.

"I would rather Sort a Muggle than him," said the hat, this being his culminating insult. And the hat was not disappointed. Everyone got up from their seats.

One particularly frenzied fourth year said, "Master, let us take care of him for you!" Other people joined in, and soon everyone took up the cry. The hat just sat there, basking in it's glory from it's position atop Neville's head and let the chant go on for two full minutes.

Then the hat opened it's mouth to speak and everyone fell into an awed silence.

"I shall take care of him myself." Then for the first time Harry saw the hat move by itself. It jumped off of Neville's head and turned to face him. Neville seemed to be frozen with fear. Though the hat had no feet, it's brim curved downwards into two points that it walked on. It stretched it's mouth open wide, and Harry suddenlly knew what was going to happen next. He couldn't bear to look and swung around to face the wall.

He could still see the shadows, and no matter how hard he tried, Harry couldn't tear his gaze from them. He saw the hat's mouth keep on stretching open, the mouth that he now knew for a fact had more purposes than just for conversation. He saw it's now fully prolonged fangs poking out of it's cavernous maw. He saw Neville's sillhouette still paralyzed in horror. Then he saw the mouth open just one inch more and then snap shut.

Harry's head snapped back towards the center of the room. Neville was _gone._

He had just disappeared. Harry couldn't believe it. He didn't understand how the hat could have devoured something several times it's size, but it had.

"That will be all," announced the hat. Then it was placed back on it's cushions, and the house elves picked the litter up to take it to who-knows-where.

Then, on the way out, when it thought nobody was listening, the hat said to the house elves, "Take me to the bathrooms."

Harry just looked after the hat, shocked. Then, after it had exited the room and turned right somewhere down the hallway, he started laughing like crazy, and couldn't stop. Everyone looked at him like he was crazy, but he couldn't stop the cackles that escaped his lips. But even though he couldn't suppress it, he knew that what he had gotten into was not laughing matter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Short, a filler chapter, and a few months late. The good news? Well, nobody was really waiting for this update anyways. But I'm not one to abandon my story, so here you go.**

Harry woke up the next morning, not exactly feeling too refreshed. After all, it was rather hard to sleep while thinking that you could become the victim of some barbaric cult ritual at any second. Add that to the fact that all the shadows looked suspiciously like a certain fanged hat that pervaded the few seconds of shut-eye Harry did manage to catch, and you get a pretty restless night.

Grumbling, Harry rolled off his bed and stood up. He had been in such a daze by the time he reached his dormitory that he hadn't even bothered to look at who he was bunking with. Now he looked over to see Ron in the next bunk, but instead found himself facing a couple boys that he had never seen before. Not exactly in the mood for conversation, Harry decided to get out of the room without waking them up and he made his way down to the Common Room.

He was on his guard. After what he had seen last night, Harry was sure that he would be having anxiety problems for the rest of his life. A sudden image of him accidentally murdering Dudley with one of Uncle Vernon's drills after seeing his cousin's hat that was part of his school uniform lifted Harry's spirits for a while. But then of course, Harry had to bump into Ron at the entrance of the Great Hall, ruining the moment and bringing a scowling Harry back to reality.

Momentarily forgetting his fear of being attacked by a magical hat, Harry strode into the Great Hall and sat down at the Gryffindor table, completely ignoring Ron's cheerful 'Good Morning' as he passed the Slytherin table, which was kind of odd, because Harry thought that Slytherins and Gryffindors detested each other. Though the long-nosed redhead had seemed like a good potential friend at first, now Harry didn't feel like anyone could be trusted at this school, especially if they were in Slytherin.

Feeling a headache coming on, Harry decided that it wouldn't be wise to think so hard so early in the morning. He looked about him at the other students. For some reason, everyone was just sitting there without touching their food, as if waiting for something. Shrugging, Harry was about to dig in when he heard a murmuring and raised his head.

Everyone turned to face the doors, which dramatically burst open. Through the darkness beyond them, a hovering object slowly floated into the room. It took a horrified Harry a few seconds to register the fact that this object was none but the very same evils hat that had been pervading his dreams the previous night. For a second, harry closed his eyes, hoping that when he opened them, the hat would magically have disappeared. Unfortunately, his hopes were ill-founded, as the felt hat was still very much there and was making it's way to the nearest table, looking ridiculous as it bobbed up and down in mid-air.

The sorting hat paused over the first plate it reached, hovering for a few seconds. Then, like some sort of weird, flying vacuum cleaner, started sucking up the food from it. Harry just watched in shock as the hat flew down the table, sucking up food as it went. And what struck him as even more odd than it taking the food was that it didn't eat using it's mouth, but the food just flew up into the hat's bottom.

Harry was shook out of his thoughts as he noticed the hat was getting too close for comfort. Not that he was comfortable being anywhere in a 100 mile radius of the thing, but that was besides the point. Normally, the boy wouldn't have wanted to get involved, but he wasn't going to sit back while a hat stole his food. Plus, he was pretty hungry. So, snapping out of his trance, the skinny boy started shoveling his food down his mouth before the hat could reach his position midway down the second table.

Harry was just polishing off the last of his eggs when the dreaded hat reached his plate. Though he was hopeful that the hat would have had his fill by now, (it had eaten from eighty plates), this didn't seem to be the case. If anything, the hat seemed to get more ravenous with every morsel of food that it consumed, moving onwards faster and faster.

Every plate so far had been untouched by its owner, so the hat seemed perplexed when it stopped over Harry's plate. Well, to be precise, Harry's empty plate. It just floated above it for a few long moments (which felt like eternity to Harry), staring down. Then it swiveled around, turning just the top part of it's head, body, whatever, until it's deep ugly indentations that functioned as the hat's eyes had focused on the owner of the plate, who was none other than Harry Potter.

His mind going blank, Harry had no idea what to do, so he just stared blankly at the floating hat. At first, the young wizard wasn't sure what the hat was going to do to him. Then, as it's 'face' morphed into a jumble of creased lines vaguely resembling a constipated pumpkin, Harry came to the realization that the hat was mad. And if it was mad, there was almost no doubt whatever it would do was bad. **(AN: Unintentional rhyme!)**

This thought caused Harry to take immediate decisive action. Unfortunately, that was just a way of using big words to say he flung his fork at the hat, pinning it to the side of Ron's chair. Harry decided at once that his self-proclaimed brilliant plan played out much better in his head than in real life. He didn't have much time to contemplate that though, as his still somewhat-drowsy brain finally processed the fact that if he didn't run, and run fast, he would probably end up being the substitute for the hat's breakfast. This jolted him awake quick, and run he did, all the way out of the Hogwarts castle and into the Forbidden Forest, not really looking or caring where he went.

Nobody really tried to stop him as they were all in a state of shock watching the hat wriggling and probably cursing the fact that Godric Gryffindor hadn't created him with hands as he tried to dislodge the fork stuck in it in vain. At any other time in his short, miserable life, Harry would have roared uproariously in laughter at the sight, but not now. Now, he was just trying to figure out what to do next.

And he had no freaking clue.


End file.
